


The Rejuvenating Power of Hot Springs

by KDSarge



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M, PWP, Schwarz - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:31:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDSarge/pseuds/KDSarge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of the temple, Schwarz recovers. Brad's confidence is shaken, but Schuldig, oddly enough, helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rejuvenating Power of Hot Springs

“Cannonball!” A white and orange shape flew through the air, landed in the water with a splash. Crawford growled and took off his dripping glasses.

::I hope you hit the bottom,:: he thought at the telepath.

::Prost Neujahr to you too, Crawford-san. Mmm...:: Crawford felt hands on his thighs, :: _there's_ my celebration...::

::Schu, you can't--:: Crawford cut off with a gasp as the German proved he could. Crawford would have thought he couldn't get hard in water this hot, but that mouth was hotter. Especially as Schu shared the feeling, let Crawford know exactly how it felt to have his cock hardening in—

The German came up for air, Crawford grabbed him. “Come here.” God he was stunning, his hair darkened by the water, streaks of flame on pale perfect skin in the soft area lights—

::Nein.:: Schuldig slipped out of his grip and ducked back under the water.

::Sch—oh, damn, Schu, I want—::

::You and your damn orders. Shut the fuck up and enjoy.::

Like he could do anything else. That hot mouth sucked and licked and blew bubbles, even when he came up to breathe knowing fingers caressed and stroked and prodded everything Crawford wanted touched, and found some places he hadn't thought he'd like, and Crawford held onto the edge of the spring and hoped he wouldn't drown.

::Schu...oh, fuck, Schu...::

::Already?:: the German asked, amused. He popped up for air again, dove again. Crawford bit his lip as his eyes rolled back. Hot mouth and tongue and fingers, and a sexy chuckle in his mind...

::There's my control freak. How long can you hold out, Crawford-san?::

::Try...me.::

Schuldig responded by tugging on his hips, moving his ass to the edge of the seat and opening the area for further exploration. Crawford groaned and sank lower and wished he'd brought a snorkel. Perfect German lips nuzzled his balls while long German fingers worked his aching length. Fuck, that was—

::Come ahead,:: the telepath teased. Crawford growled and tried to think of baseball.

::I don't think so,:: Schu answered. ::Do you know how perfect your dick is, Brad-chan? Fits my fingers just right, fits my ass, when you fuck me I swear it touches everything, sliding, rubbing...you fuck my brain, Brad, you drive me so goddamn crazy...::

Oh shit...Crawford clenched his hands on the ledge under the water. Schu's hair drifted across his stomach, his whole body jerked. He clamped his control, Schu chuckled in his mind as he came up for air.

::How long, Brad-chan?:: he asked again, diving back to Mission: Make Crawford's Head Explode. The hair brushed his thighs, Crawford moaned over his bitten lip. The hair drifted over his cock, Schuldig's nose prodded his balls. Then his tongue—

“Ah, Gott, Schu, oh fuck...” He'd never done this before, Crawford had never let Schu do this before, but somehow now he didn't care, on the death of the old year, the dawn of a new one, the steam dancing surreal shapes across the water and that smartass damn mouth—Schuldig moved, clamped his lips and bobbed his head while a careful finger lightly brushed Crawford's ass.

::Schu—::

::Just shut up, Brad.::

“Aa-aaahhh!” Crawford threw his head back but held his control somehow, as bottle-rockets shot off behind his eyes. “Schu!”

“Gott in Himmel, you're beautiful like that.”

Crawford could only pant in answer. The German wiggled his finger and hit that spot again, wet hair sliding across Crawford's chest as he nibbled.

::Always beautiful,:: his mind murmured. ::Follow you anywhere just to watch that ass...::

That was—aahhh!—that was important— ::Follow?::

::Follow, you dolt...mmm, taste so...like I always have. Like we always have...mmm, so good...::

Stretching, Crawford realized, Schu was stretching him, and he was riding that hand like a jockey in the Derby— “Do it, Schu!”

The German jerked back, staring. “Brad?”

Crawford pulled his knees to his chest. Schuldig grinned.

“Come here.” He sat on the ledge, Crawford straddled him and lowered himself slowly—

“God,” he panted, “Schu, oh god—“

::oh fuck Brad...::

::so...good...::

::Gott, shut me out or I'll come now!::

Crawford clenched his jaw and his eyes and his shields. And his control.

“That's it,” Schuldig coaxed as he eased down farther. “Gott, Brad, you feel so amazing!”

Beyond speech, Crawford bent his head, gasping. Schuldig cradled his face and nuzzled the sweat on his forehead. Brad came to rest fully seated on the German's lap. Schuldig growled.

“fucking bastard...don't you move till I get control goddamnit I want this to last, don't you move, don't...”

“Have...to...” Crawford groaned, and lifted. Schuldig snarled and grabbed his hips and met him as he sank back, slamming in and Crawford threw his head back and shouted even as he went up again and down and riding and fucking and he grabbed the wall behind Schu's head to give him leverage to slam harder onto that hot hard cock and Schu was beautiful, tensed up and fighting for control and all the tendons in his neck standing out and water splashing around them and the German grabbed Crawford's cock and yanked and somehow he held back and he felt Schuldig tightening and drawing in and—

“Fucking Gott!” Schu screamed, clamping on Crawford's hips to hold him still as he shot hot—

Crawford groaned and the Fourth of July shot off in his head and he thought he blacked out, he found himself resting on Schuldig's shoulder, body still quivering.

::schu...::

::ja...:: the German answered, tired, sated, and infinitely pleased with himself. Well, that was Schuldig. Pale fingers brushed black hair off his forehead. ::Brad Crawford, you're even better as a bottom.::

::Don't get used to it.::

Schuldig chuckled and stroked his ass. “Don't worry,” he breathed, “I will never forget what a wonder it is, you letting anyone top you in anything.”

“Smug bastard,” Crawford muttered, somehow still enjoying the lap of his lover, “I won.”

::That,:: Schuldig said in his mind, ::is why we follow. Because you always do, you stubborn bastard.::

Crawford leaned back to look into those blue eyes. “I didn't—“

“Temporary setback.” Schuldig dismissed the fall of the temple, the work of years ruined in moments, three months of broken bodies and plans recovering at Villa Weiss just to tweak the bastards' noses, with a flick of wet fingers. “The Oracle will not lose.”

“No,” Crawford agreed, bouncing backwards off Schuldig and pulling the German after, underwater, and kissing him there, ::Schwarz will not lose.::


End file.
